


Jury's Out

by Masu_Trout



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9025021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/pseuds/Masu_Trout
Summary: Charon and the Lone Wanderer go hunting for raiders, and instead find an angry super mutant behemoth.
Absolutely no one has a good time.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forgetcanon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetcanon/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! I hope you enjoy this.

Charon snarled as twisted debris flew through the air just above him, frantically reloading his combat shotgun with fingers that could never be fast enough for a situation like this. “Should we survive this—” 

“If we survive this,” the Lone Wanderer said, “we are _celebrating_. The best roasted iguana caps can— _shit!_ —buy, a couple of beers chilled in the river… actually, do you drink?” He yelped and twisted as a massive column hit the earth only a few dozen feet away. “Wait, never mind, tell me later.”

Back under Ahzrukhal, Charon had often entertained very vivid waking dreams of tying the man down behind his bar and pushing nails through the softest parts of his radiation-burned flesh until he was sobbing and begging for mercy. These days, his daydreams had taken a less violent but every bit as passionate turn: some day he would sneak up behind his new employer and duct-tape his mouth shut, and then finally he would have _quiet_.

He'd spent more time than he cared to remember standing in the corner of The Ninth Circle, watching Ahzrukhal charm the ghouls there with his booze and chems and oil-slick personality, but even the drunkest of his patrons couldn't match The Lone Wanderer in sheer ability to babble on.

Perhaps, Charon thought as he jumped out of the path of a wildly-hurled train car, he would attach a length of rope to the man's ankle while he was at it. Keep him tied down within the relative safety of Megaton's wall, occupy him with fixing leaking pipes and helping drug-addicted smoothskins, and never again get into a situation like this miserable experience.

The behemoth roared in pain and fury as a well-timed shot from the Lone Wanderer's laser rifle sent a burst of energy directly in the monster's eye. It slapped one hand over its face, nearly dropping its massive club 

“Ugh.” The Lone Wanderer wrinkled his nose. “That's godawful.”

Charon's sense of smell wasn't great, but even he couldn't hope to ignore the stench of rot and gore and cooking flesh that permeated the air all around them. He'd known this place wasn't safe—the bullet casings and stacks of shopping carts the littered the ground around the old train cars was sign enough—but he hadn't expected a _behemoth_.

_Focus_ , Charon thought. With a quick breath, he lined his shotgun up and took advantage of the beast's distraction to sink a row of bullets into its flesh. Sluggish lines of blood oozed from the shallow punctures. With a bone-rattling growl, the behemoth fixed its remaining eye on Charon; the other was a mass of pulp and blood.

The Lone Wanderer slammed another round into his rifle, eyes wide with adrenaline and what Charon suspected might be a few doses of Buffout. (Not that Charon was complaining—he might have disapproved of Ahzrukhal's chem sales, but in a life-or-death fight it was another thing entirely.) He arced another few lines of burning light across its arms, its chest, its sides, but the behemoth hardly even seemed to notice. All its attention was on Charon.

“Shit.” The Lone Wanderer scowled. “Charon, get some distance—that thing wants you.”

Charon considered the order for a moment. He was supposed to obey his employer's orders without question, _especially_ in combat situations… but on the other hand, backing off would leave the Lone Wanderer alone in range of the behemoth. 

“I have distance,” he said, swinging his gun up to try and take the other eye out.

“ _Fuck_ , Charon—” The Lone Wanderer said desperately.

He missed—goddamn short-range guns, this monster was ninety percent muscle and skin and the few soft points it had were near impossible to hit—but he did manage to score a line across its cheek and the thick muscle of its misshapen neck.

His new employer was barely more than a child: just out of the vault, smooth-skinned, unscarred, fast-talking and charming and insufferably cheerful, stumbling from one danger to the next, convinced he could fix just about _anything_ if he only believed hard enough. He was also, however, a genuinely good person, which was a completely new experience for Charon as far as employers went.

Fighting for his life against raiders and ferals and even behemoths won out over killing innocents for Ahzrukhal's sick pleasure any day of the week. He would do everything he could to keep this one alive.

“Less talking, more shooting,” Charon snapped.

He didn't dare to turn and look at the Lone Wanderer; all his attention had to be on the monster in front of him. Charon just barely managed to hear his quiet, half-terrified laugh over the din of the fighting, though. 

“Yeah, yeah. You're always on me about that, you know?” He swore as another laser shot went wide, cutting into the meat of its neck instead of the more vulnerable face. “Knew I should have brought the Fat Man. We survive this, I swear I'm never leaving Megaton without it again. I've got _multiple_ goddamn mini nukes and not a thing to launch them from.”

“I'm not carrying it for you.”

“We'll buy a pack Brahmin, take it everywhere with us. Dad'll be so happy when I tell him I finally found myself an honest trade to take up.” He laughed as he lined up another shot. “Better than fucking pedicurist, at least.”

“This isn't working,” Charon said in return. The behemoth was bleeding and angry, but it wasn't truly _hurt_. At this rate they would run out of ammo before they even managed to slow it.

“I know.” The Lone Wanderer snarled. “We need to get it on the ground or we'll never be able to hit it.”

“You have a plan for that?” Right now, toppling the massive beast was looking about as likely as finding a handy grenade launcher stowed inside one of these train cars.

“I might.” The Lone Wanderer paused a moment, considering, then said, “distract it a moment for me, would you?”

“ _What?_ Charon snapped, turning towards the Lone Wanderer, but by then it was too late. He'd already left his side to run straight towards the massive beast.

Charon swore. Goddamn fool vault-kid was going to get himself _stomped on_ and then Charon would have to loot his fucking contract of the _fucking_ liquefied corpse and then where would he go?

_No. No._ He refused to think about it. Charon snarled out a challenge, unloading shotgun rounds as fast as he possibly could straight into the monster's face. 

So long as the behemoth focused on him—

So long as it didn't drop that massive club where it could hit the kid—

Nothing was going to go wrong. He wouldn't let it.

The noise and the movement and the constant annoyances of those hot little bullets peppering its neck kept the behemoth's eye on him. It took a step forward, raising its club to slash at Charon, roaring in fury.

Fuck. Too close, it was too close, and Charon's mobility was hindered by the overturned train cars all around him. He braced himself, swinging his gun up for one last volley of shots—

And the bombs went off.

Charon flung his hands over his eyes on sheer instinct. The sudden bright flare was enough to nearly blind him—black spots swum in front of his eyes and the world around him swum.

There was a roar, louder and more desperate than any before, and a great _thud_ shook the ground.

He didn't stop to think. Charon grabbed his gun from where he'd dropped it and sprinted towards the behemoth's body. He aimed at the mass, still half-blind, and unloaded into where he thought the head might be.

Twelve bullets into its body, reload. Another twelve, reload once more. Again and again he emptied the gun, his fingers shaking and his teeth gritted with rage.

That great shaking blast that toppled even a massive behemoth, the sound and the fire of it all… If this monster had killed his employer, he would turn it into paste.

“Charon!”

He ignored the voice behind him, intent on his target.

“ _Charon_!” 

Someone gripped his arm and hand, folding their fingers around the trigger and stopping him from firing again.

“Charon, you got it. You're just wasting ammo now.” 

Charon blinked. The tunnel vision that drew him towards the behemoth's body slowly began to fade from his eyes. 

“Oh,” he said.

The monster's head was a torn-up mass of flesh and blood and shattered bone: he'd shot out both its eyes, collapsed its sunken nose, smashed its teeth until only shards of them remained in the bloody hole of its mouth. 

The Lone Wanderer smiled. “Good job, though. You got it right away.”

Being complimented still felt awkward, especially now with the fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins; Ahzrukhal had never been fond of giving him praise. There'd been a lot of changes in his life since the Lone Wanderer purchased his contract—for one, he'd never killed a behemoth before.

“This is what you hired my services for, yes?” Exhausted and shaking, he was slipping back into the formal speech he'd always used with Ahzrukhal.

“Well,” the Lone Wanderer said with a laugh, “not exactly this. But I'm glad you were here.”

His employer was alive. His employer was standing upright and smiling at him, scorched and bleeding but still undoubtedly _here_. 

It was… it was enough.

“Come on,” The Lone Wanderer said, still carefully supporting him with one arm. “Evergreen Mills can wait another day—let's get back to Jury Street, Station, patch ourselves up and find something to eat and drink. I need some RadAway _bad_ after all of that.”

And, Charon suspected, The Lone Wanderer wanted him to rest too. 

Part of him almost wanted to argue, to prove he wasn't too weak to keep going. But he _was_ tired, and anyway it would be good to know the Lone Wanderer would be safe for at least the next few hours after something like this.

“Agreed,” he said, shaking his employer's hand off to stand upright.

Them, behemoth-killers. He never would have expected it, and yet the evidence was right there in front of them both. He wondered what the next wanderers to cross this stretch of land would think of the massive corpse lying here.

The Lone Wanderer laughed, taking one last look at the body of the massive beast. “Well, one good thing about Evergreen—building might be a den of raiders, but at least we won't have to deal with _that_ again. Plain old humans is going to feel downright relaxing after this.”


End file.
